


Universe In You

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Blow me, Cas.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Universe In You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so there was this gifset.  
> You know which one.  
> Yeah, that one.
> 
> My hand might have slipped.  
> I'll... do a more throughout job on the grammar check some other day, it should be relatively clean. Forgive where it's not, I've had an insanely long day today.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

 

  
"Blow me, Cas!"

The last time Castiel had heard Dean say that, the situation had been just as bad. It hurt then, it hurt more now; unlike before, the angel knew exactly the nuances behind the shot. He wasn't better prepared to take it, either, not really anyway. No matter how long he stayed and how well he adjusted to the strange social curves of Dean Winchester, he could never take his anger the way he would have wished he could. It was much more painful for him to bear than that of others, perhaps for the sole reason it was Dean he wanted to please the most, and when he couldn't - especially when he'd only meant good - and Dean lashed out at him, it put him off and upset him in a way he couldn't really handle.  
It was confusing, how a childish throw like that could hurt an angel that much. Dean didn't even mean it - Castiel knew well he did not. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd said it, it was there, Dean was hurt and so was Castiel himself.

Then, as naturally as night follows day, the upset and hurt turned into anger. It was a different kind to what Castiel usually felt, too; it was daring, bold and challenging kind of anger. You dare to say that to me? You dare not value what I'm trying to offer you? You dare stay behind those shells of yours when I'm bare and vulnerable, and you _dare_ hurt me when all my shields are down?

His fists gripped onto the man's shirt and pushed him against the wall. Dean hadn't expected it - the look of shock in his eyes was completely enjoyable.  
"Cas..." he breathed out, fist gripping Castiel's shirt now in turn, past the tie and around the white buttons over the older's collarbones, "Cas - what..."

Castiel didn't bother replying. He knew things about Dean, or rather, he hoped he did: so many of his guesses were off and this one, this one he couldn't afford to be. But he was quite certain, from years of lingering gazes and moments it could have been, from the few awkward moments Dean had told him, voicelessly as might have been, to forget; the times he'd listened to him when he hadn't known he could hear. The details slipped Dean's mind easily, the more so the further he got into accepting Castiel as something akin to family - he forgot he was an angel, and that as an angel, he could hear through the walls and into the barely audible moans, the shivering gasps and the sound of the parting lips. Those moments, as natural as they were, had often made Castiel feel like he was eavesdropping. He wasn't - he wasn't _trying_ to listen, it was just that just like him being an angel was often forgotten by Dean, the most basic human needs often escaped Castiel until it was much too late to leave before he was unintendingly caught into them.  
Yet, the man had never said anything at all. It was all in the silence, and in silence remained the chance of reading him wrong.

The hunter turned stiff and tense when the angel slid his palms down from his chest, along his waist and down onto his hips instead. He could have been frozen solid by the time Castiel wrestled open the button and pulled down the zipper as he fell on his knees in front of Dean.  
 _You asked for it_ , Castiel would have wanted to say as he tugged down the man's jeans, fingers bending inside the mouth of the boxers to keep them along, inch by inch revealing the trimmed hair on the other's crotch until the rough edge of cloth finally met with the swelling shaft of his sex instead.  
 _So have it._

Suddenly, the anger had faded from Dean entirely. He lifted his cold, trembling hand from where it had landed over Castiel's shoulder and it brushed into his hair instead, a whimper leaving his parted mouth as the angel took a hold of his cock and gave it a couple jerks. He was shivering and afraid and aroused and at least for the main part willing, if still stunned and confused on top. This wasn't what he'd expected - this wasn't what he would have even imagined happening.  
He hadn't associated _blowing_ with actual blowing; for him, it had been just an insult, at least on the front. Perhaps in his subconscious it stemmed from something else than the will to hurt, but whatever the more fine details of the simple jab, he would have never in a million years expected it to end up like this.

Castiel wet his lips with a hasty lick and brought the tip of the other's sex up to them, wrapping his mouth around it to allow its entry. His tongue trailed along the underside of the flesh as he took it in further, then slid sluggishly back as he pulled away only to rock back down with the faintest of assistance from the younger's hips. The next sound that escaped Dean was a moan in the form of the angel's name, the one Dean had given him, and it made Castiel's vessel shiver - his grace shiver, which he felt as a surge of energy like ripples travelling through water.  
He took the hunter in deeper - deeper - deeper and deeper still until he felt the member pushing against the back of the vessel's throat, making it impossible for him to swallow (though he tried and it seemed to please Dean). The other's body twitched rythmically; Castiel admired his self-control even as the angel could see his chemistry flaring up like the _aurora borealis_ , waves of red, gold and purple charging through along the shape of his gorgeous body. This wasn't even touching the scents that Castiel could make out from him now, all of the pleasure he made Dean feel literally surrounded him in a manner that was hypnotic for him to witness and intoxicating to be a part of.  
He only noticed he was nervous himself as he reached a hand between the man's legs and his whole arm was shaking, even if it happened almost unnoticeably he knew it - nothing in the body could be left unnoticed by him, but yet he'd still lost this control over stability and couldn't quite push to regain it. Dean spread his legs, finding better positions for his feet on the floor and relaxing his back onto the wall, and Castiel's palm found its target, pressing gently against the soft flesh. The younger shivered, letting out another muffled, long moan as Castiel's mouth retreated again, allowing all but the tip out before taking it back in once more. The angel's tongue gathered a drop of pre-cum from the slit at the head and he could taste _everything_ in that drop: all of Dean for one, but much that he hadn't been looking for, much he was surprised to find although he shouldn't have, such as the finest tone like a lost reference to the chocolate the man had eaten earlier in the day and the damned dust of the universe itself, scattered underneath layers and layers of nature and flesh. He pulled back - now completely - to take a breath and his eyes closed on their own accord as he collected himself and tried to stop thinking about the stars (Sun, now rising elsewhere; Alcor and Mizar, the ones he'd barely taken note of but perhaps, it seemed, should have paid more attention to; Proxima Centauri which burned red with declining power but could yet be seen from afar), his ears ringing with the complaint ( _disappointment_ ) that barely left the other's lips.  
When he sank back around the man's flesh, his palm kept pushing on until he was holding it still against the firm behind of the younger's trained body; it was a perfect spot for balance, and the anchor gave him confidence to go on. Now Dean's whole body was shivering, barely staying put at all: he rocked forth each time Castiel's hand gave him the faintest push and they met in the middle, the angel's nose pushing into the coarse cut hair and then retreating from it suffering through various states of ticklishness that the being inside barely noticed at all. Through all of this the fingers that held onto the dark strands of Castiel's hair stayed gentle and loving, never demanding anything at all even if they sometimes did suggest it. Dean's other hand now pressed onto the angel's cheek and clumsily caressed down from where it repeatedly landed, along the curve of his jaw and down the side of his neck until he couldn't reach further down anymore and instead returned to where he'd started from. He was so gentle and affectionate, eager to show even now that he cared - no, how _much_ he cared - when he was barely there anymore: just barely hanging on. And when he couldn't take it any longer, instead of just letting go he gave Castiel a warning, tugging his head back and whispering, gasping;

"Cas, Cas - I'm coming - please..."

And even if Castiel didn't heed that warning, instead taking the younger in as deep as he could (the very act in itself seemed to get Dean off much, much better than he'd hoped, probably startling him in being the exact contrary to what he'd expected), the knowledge of just how much the other put thought into what _he_ felt was a fact that made the angel feel more loved than he could remember ever feeling before.  
Any human would have thought twice about allowing someone else to enter their mouth so deep and reach their climax right there and then, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to care. He was hardly one with his vessel enough to be bothered, and the small inconvenience was well drowned in what he saw in Dean at that same time and by the feel of the hunter's fingers now holding his hair from one side and dragging red marks in his neck from the other. All of this was enjoyable - all of this was good.

When Dean finally relaxed, shivering and panting and gasping for air, Castiel let him go feeling physically used and emotionally fulfilled with no shades of aggression or anger or hurt left in him. He stood up to meet the green of Dean's barely open eyes and was surprised to soon feel the man's hand return softly upon his cheek.

"The hell was that all about?"  
The breathless voice was accompanied by a blissful shy smile that Castiel adored.

"You asked for it," the angel replied dryly, wishing he'd known how to play that hint of tease in his expression or tone like humans so often did.  
Judging by the chuckle Dean let out, he understood him well enough to know even when he failed to properly deliver the finer tone.

"That was the most aggressive blowjob I've ever gotten. And the first I got from a guy, so, uh, thanks for the gay."  
The younger's fingers bent behind Castiel's ear and he pulled him closer - Castiel sensed the nervousness in him and stepped forth, one step and another until they were close enough for Dean to bring his forehead to rest upon Castiel's.  
"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"I am, as well."

They shared a deep silence in which Dean latched onto Castiel a little more firmly, one hand holding his shoulder for balance and to share some of his weight from the trembling legs that probably felt weaker than he would've preferred.  
"So... you..." he attempted, then his voice died and he shook his head in discomfort, near distress.  
There were words, thoughts, that he was afraid of voicing: this much Castiel had learned.

"Did it make you feel better?" the older asked with a hint of a smile.

It made Dean chuckle.  
"I loved it."  
He hesitated.  
"You. I..."

"I know."


End file.
